Riding the skies
by Luna Rubra
Summary: Shortstory. When the world was green and the elves were protected in their golden bubble, the kingdom of Quel'thelas bloomed. But the higher you fly, the higher is the fall.


Higher! Higher!

The warm summer wind brushed her hair, and there was nothing but blue sky above her. She rode the skies like she was born to do, her heart exploding from excitement and her body light, so light...

It was a glorious day and the sun was shinning bright, turning her silver hair into a magnificent white crown. And she felt the queen of the skies, even if the wings did not belong to her. The beast that took her in its back had the vibrant colors of fire, yellow and orange and red, and the girl commanded it with the skills she would someday command fire itself. Just one touch and the beast bended to the right. She adjusted her posture and distributed her weight on the animal accordingly. Yes, she knew it. The skies belonged to her, and in no time, there would be no better sky rider than herself.

Taking a rising drift of warm air, she flew higher. "Higher! Higher!" she told the dragonhawk, and so it brought her closer to the sun and away from everyone else. She felt the wind washing her soul, blowing away all her fears and nightmares, her hopes and dreams. There was nothing left but the feeling of the flight, of belonging to herself, and only herself. Such feeling of freedom was intoxicating, and would certainly leave her drunk and eager for more. There was no better feeling than that, she knew it - her mind was empty, her body was light and her heart was beating fast, so fast...

Her father would be proud.

The girl looked down, and everything else was tiny from that height. The ancient tress with golden crowns her people loved so much, the mountain chain far away - was it so far, really? -, separating their beloved forest from the rest of the world... and the sea, stretching itself over the horizon and farther beyond, shinning over the radiant and glorious sunshine.

Such happiness was too great to contain, and she felt her heart would stop if she didn't give vent to it. Therefore, the song that escaped her lips was the pure essence of happiness, and even if her voice wasn't ready to weave so glorious feelings into people's heart, the innocence of a child's voice had a beauty of its own. A fleeting and rare sort of beauty, before she would mature and be apt to tear men's hearts.

She felt like a bird, a sweet swallow navigating the skies, lost in its vastness.

Everything was perfect that day, up until that moment. Then she heard the calling of reality, taking the shape of a whistle. The dragonhawk she was riding turned its head to the left and took its way back to the ground, despite the little girl's wish of making that flight eternal. But no matter how much they approached the ground, she still felt she left her heart back there, on the clouds, flying high above them all.

That reminded her she was not the queen of the skies - not yet - and the song died in her lips. No matter how much she would try, in the end the beast she was riding would always answer its master and go back to him. The dragonhawk heard its master's whistling and promptly obeyed, drawing closer to the ground within each minute, flying in large circles over an uncovered area of the forest.

There was a small group waiting for her return, mostly composed of small children about her age and a few adults, including the flight master. The children were all waiting their turn to take their first flight alone, without the master to directly guide the beast, even though he would still be watching them from the ground. The girl was happy to know that no one would fly better than her, so confident of her place in the skies. She saw the smile of the flight master from a distance, and knew no words would be enough to show how good she was.

After a few months learning the basics of flying, she was really eager for that moment, when she would finally be allowed to ride a dragonhawk alone - and it all went just like she dreamed it would be. She couldn't devise a moment she felt happier than that, the moment a dream came true.

After a moment longer, the dragonhawk landed smoothly in a clearing in the woods, and the flight master, a handsome red-haired elf, took the reins of the animal. The elf was not one to give high praises, but the slightest nod he gave her was enough. He was pleased.

The other small elven children gathered around, starting to shout on who should go next, while the flight master tried to establish some sort of order out of that bubbling chaos of excited kids. The red-haired elf gestured for the girl to dismount as he prepared the next one that would ride the dragonhawk. With a smile still upon her lips, with everyone's voices muffled by the blood still pounding on her ears, the girl dismounted.

But her feet didn't find the ground properly, and next thing she remembered was the earth quickly running to meet her and the smell of the wet grass. She fell as graciously as a sack of potatoes, face planting with a soft thud. All other sounds, strangely muffled until then, became clear all of a sudden. They laughed and snickered, as the elf girl who flew better than everyone else couldn't give one step without stumbling around.

And while she was still trying to figure out which way was up, she distinctively felt her heart, that was still flying high and high above, being brutally attracted by the earth and shattering on the floor in a million of pieces. She felt like a bird with broken wings, suddenly defenseless and surrounded by predators. Someone quickly helped her up, a blond elf woman with a gentle smile. The woman helped her take the grass off her dirty dress and asked if she was hurt. Trying to retain some dignity, fighting back the tears of pain and embarrassment, she valiantly shook her head. Even the woman's warm smile felt as mockery, and no matter how much the flight master would hiss at the other kids, she still felt their sneering and snickering by her back, dramatizing her fall and being as mean as kids can be.

What would her father say? Her whole body shook in fear. What would he say if he was there to witness her fall? The little girl trembled at the thought, trying to erase from her mind the reaction she was picturing for her father.

Her eyes burned from unshed tears. She stepped back so that the next elf would take flight, trying to conceal herself among the other kids, but their laughs still echoed in her ears. Her knees hurt, her hands hurt, but not as much as her pride. Staring at her feet, her vision blurred due to the tears, she stood silent, hoping no one would notice her and the interest in her failure would soon vanish.

She was not queen of the skies. She was just a little girl, and little girls needed someone they could cry to when they're hurt.

That night, when she went back home, all the pain of the fall and the embarrassment fell on her shoulders and weighed her down, making her feel her limbs were as heavy as lead. She hesitated on the doorstep of her home, but she knew that sooner rather than later she would have to go in and face her father. Trying to be as silent as she could, she took a deep breath and opened the creaking door slowly, sneaking in like a thief.

"Aiwyn? My child?" she heard his sweet voice from the dark, and immediately froze in place, caught in the act. There was no use trying to sneak on her father.

The dark was absolute in the room. Shuffling her feet, she found the candles and started to light them up, throwing some pieces of dancing light on that shadowy chamber. It was impregnated with the scent of herbs and potions, of fresh flowers and hot spiced beverages. For her, it was the scent of home - it was inviting, warm and full of sweet herbal perfumes and flowers.

He was sitting by a sturdy wooden table, sorting out herbs, working perfectly in the deepest dark. His hands with long and thin fingers felt the shape of the herbs, the texture of the leaves - his nose felt its fragrance, pungent to sweet, discrete or saturated. But when he heard the girl trying to sneak in, the warm smile that found his lips quickly escaped, as an uneasy expression took his features.

"What happened, my girl?" he asked again, turning his head to her in an instinctive motion. He was concerned with the shuffling feet, the embarrassed silence.

It is curious to notice how the old ranger seemed to perceive more than those who still had the gift of sight. Where his eyes used to be, now there was only a clean and neat bandage, since he knew people felt restless at the view of his empty eye cavities. But despite of his blindness, he still saw everything. He saw his little girl, usually so excited and lively, blooming before him each day, arriving home as a withered flower, silent and sad. He knew her enough to know something was wrong.

Aiwyn even thought of concealing it from him, but once she saw her father's concern, all the tears and pains came back at once.

"Papa!" she cried out, running to him and throwing her arms around his neck.

Suddenly, all that unshed tears came, and she felt unable to hold back. Her sadness overfilled her, and as much it wouldn't seem like a good reason to be so unhappy, she still was a tiny girl and a tiny reason was enough to break her heart. The world was big, her life was so green and flowery that a withered flower was a good reason to shed a tear.

Throughout some whimpering and sobbing, the blind elf tried to calm down his child, hugging her close to his chest and trying to figure out what happened. Still afraid of his reaction, it took him some persuasion to soothe her and have her tell the whole story. She couldn't face her father's disappointment, but his voice was warm, gentle, and finally compelled her to talk.

During some erratic minutes, Aiwyn told what happened in a, more or less, cohesive narrative. The father just listened, patiently, and as she developed her terrible failure, she was surprised to notice he had the faintest shadow of a smile on his lips.

"They laughed at me!" she finished, confused, thinking that perhaps he didn't understand it clearly. "I fell and they laughed!"

"And they shouldn't have done it, but... My dear, wouldn't you do the same if you saw one of your friends falling?" he answered patiently, and for a moment she thought he was, too, mocking her. But he was her father! He should stay by her side!

"But... But..." she mumbled, perplexed.

"But that doesn't matter, Ai" he continued, patting her hair, silver like his. "What matters is that you flew beautifully and, when you fell, you quickly got on your feet and didn't feed their taunting. That's what matters," her father said, and with a loving smile, he said all she wanted to hear that night, that she had no hopes of listening anymore. He said: "I'm proud of you."

And it didn't feel he was only saying it to collect the pieces of her broken heart - he meant it, and she couldn't imagine a couple of words would be enough to reanimate her spirit once again, but they did. Confused, she recognized a hint of happiness healing her heart, and felt even more confused. But it wasn't unusual for her father to make her feel baffled and astonished. She lost her vocabulary.

"It's curious, isn't it?" her father kept on talking. "But I guess it does make some sort of sense. Sometimes, when we learn to fly, this overjoy is so intoxicating that we forget everything else, choked by it. Sometimes, we fly so high above that we forget how to put one foot in front of the other," he said, laying a tender kiss on her forehead. "But you rose with dignity, so I know you'll be prepared for the world."

As a child, she never clearly understood what that meant. Only when her world broke apart, only when her land was ripped and her beloved golden forest burned, she understood the meaning of flying and walking.

But for now, she answered the only way she could, with the only words that came to her when she was confused.

"I love you, papa," she said, hugging him tight as he wiped out her last tears.

"I love you too, Aiwyn," he answered. "Now go to bed, it's late."

Despite the pain, the crying and the excitement of the day, that night she slept peacefully, unaware of her future, unaware of the fall of her kingdom and of the darkness that would fall upon her people. Such darkness would temper her soft heart, shroud her loving nature and carve madness in the depths of her mind. She would be prepared for the world, no doubt. 

Might we hope the world will be prepared for her.


End file.
